The Last Rose Of Summer (Celtic Woman)

Tis the last rose of summer, 
Left blooming alone. 
All her lovely companions 
Are faded and gone. 
No flow'r of her kindred, 
No rosebud is nigh, 
To reflect back her blushes 
And give sigh for sigh. 

I'll not leave thee thou lone one 
To pine on the stem, 
Since the lovely are sleeping 
Go sleep thou with them; 
Thus kindly I scatter

Thy leaves o'er the bed, 
Where thy mates of the garden 
Lie scentless and dead. 

So soon may I follow 
When friendships decay, 
And from loves' shining circle 
The gems drop away! 
When true hearts lie withered 
And fond ones are flown 
Oh! Who would inhabit 
This bleak world alone?

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